


nothing to prove

by Val_Creative



Series: IT Movies Fic-Palooza 2019 [17]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Aftermath, Alcohol, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Choking Kink, Drama & Romance, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fever, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Hotel Sex, Hotels, Humor, M/M, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), Night Terrors, Post-Canon, Reminiscing, Richie Tozier Flirts, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sickfic, Soft Richie Tozier, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 08:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Eddie passes out from a high fever during sex.





	nothing to prove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eastaustraliancurrent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastaustraliancurrent/gifts).

> Requested by eastaustraliancurrent (AO3): "nsfw reddie fic with Eddie on top or in charge." WE GOT OFF THE RAILS WITH THIS ONE TOO. IT'S FINE. I LOVE REDDIE. PLEASE ENJOY. And, yes, any comments/thoughts are totally appreciated! :D
> 
> ((Want a request for IT? I'm doing 100-1000 word fics of any friendship or romantic ship + any prompt until I feel like quitting. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a friendship or romantic ship + prompt. You need to specify if you want SFW or NSFW (for 18+ readers only). Please check [Full Rules](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478582). The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))

*

Nightmares happen.

Richie deals with them by calmly walking over to the nearest toilet-bowl and vomiting spectacularly into it. Scrubbing the flat of his tongue with a wet, minty toothbrush until it _hurts_. Ducking into the low-lit kitchen and gulping a couple fingers of whiskey.

But, _Eddie_… Richie tries his damnedest to be there for him, while Eddie's having his own nightmares.

On Thursday night, he heard Eddie crying out in his sleep, in long, broken wails. Richie burst in, seeing him thrashing, and attempted to wake Eddie. Richie's hands shaking him carefully from the terrifying experience. But in the process, Eddie threw out his hands—not seeing Richie but the leper, the fucking-damn _leper_—and gripped onto Richie's neck, as if meaning to strangle him to death.

Didn't take it personally. Richie hated the timing though, when he discovered his stiffy. Eddie had been too mortified by Richie seeing him vulnerable and homicidal from the nightmares to catch anything like that, apologizing for a good half an hour.

It's the kind of fucked up they all are. For better or worse.

*

Hotel maintenance says the power outage on upper floor is temporary. That had been four hours ago.

Eddie manages to score a single battery-operated tea light from _god-knows_ where. He fishes out the long-lasting, emergency flashlights from his suitcase. Richie doesn't mind using his phone, but his… partner? boyfriend? his first and only love? y'know, _whatever_ the hell it is… insists they don't drain the phone-batteries. For emergencies.

_(Not everything's a goddamn emergency.)_

They crack open a wine bottle, or two, getting tipsy and reminiscing about their old classmates.

How Judy Moore got caught snorting talcum powder in the back-row of Hill's history class, mistakenly thinking it was cocaine. Or how Paul Johnson—the senior captain of the football team—and his teammates set loose a dozen live chickens into the girl's basketball game. Or how Richie tripped Belch during lunch period, when they were sixteen. He got his front tooth chipped.

Eddie traces his finger over Richie's lips, rubbing on the chip. It's not even noticeable.

He and Richie snuggle down on the floor with clean-smelling blankets from the hallway's wall-cabinet. There's no way Eddie can lay in that bed. He inspected the sheets and mattress, locating not only food crumbs and lint, but a weird and humongous piss-colored stain. Richie doesn't argue with him about it. The floor is mostly carpeting, and he's a little suspicious as well. The hotel-pillows _reek_ like someone else's BO.

It's alright wherever Eddie lies with him, face-to-face. Holding onto Richie. Eddie's mouth opening, sucking a kiss to Richie's bottom lip. "You feeling okay…?" Richie whispers, thumbing over Eddie's chin and kissing back, looking him over.

"_M'fine_," Eddie grumbles. He's a little pale and sounds stuffy. Red blotches on his cheeks.

If he says so, Richie supposes. He's not motivated enough to stop kissing Eddie, grinding up against him, their noses nuzzling. Both of Richie's hands fumbling to grasp onto Eddie's shoulder and the back of his thigh. His concentration narrow down to relaxing himself with two of Eddie's fingers thrusting inside him, coated with spit and lube. Richie's never had a preference. On topping or bottoming. A cock is a cock—as long as it's going _somewhere_ and he can get off, Richie's not gonna sweat details.

Richie's black tee goes soaking-wet from the heat and friction from their bodies (and the lack of AC in the hotel-suite). His eyes adjust to the semi-darkness. Left his prescription eyeglasses on the nightstand.

He can still make out Eddie's face and the ultra-white quality of his tee. Richie grunts, lifting with his leg, allowing Eddie to hook it up over him, feeling empty without the fingers. A long, obscene noise escapes Richie when Eddie's cock fills him, thicker and stretching him to the brink. He can feel the force of Eddie, panting heavily, _slamming_ up against him, in the backs of Richie's molars. Richie rocks with him, clutching on, gently tightening his inner muscles.

"_Turn over_…" Eddie tells him, quietly. He eases out.

"Oi, you want to inspect the goods?" Richie's voice imitates the Irish police-cop from Derry. The one who got royally pissed about their dam. He lifts his ass, smirking and obeying, rolling onto his stomach. Richie peers over his shoulder to Eddie, for a moment, slapping on one of his buttocks. "Get in there, sonny… time's a-wastin'…"

Usually it would get a laugh outta him, or a gratuitous curse word, but Eddie only hums drowsily. He touches over Richie's back. More than anything, Richie wants that same hand _crushing_ over his wind-pipe, throttling him. _Fuck_. That would be incredible.

"Eds, didja fall asleep?" Richie speaks up, amused, when Eddie's touch disappears.

He peers again, brow creasing. Eddie slumps onto the floor limply, wordlessly.

"Fuck—! Eddie, hey," Richie calls out, panicking. "_Eddie_!"

A mumble answers him.

He touches and turns Eddie's face, patting him, checking him over. Richie assumed he had been burning up from the sex. But, _shit_, Eddie feels clammy, whining and grimacing like he's trapped in migraine-induced pain. Richie's brain immediately shrills for him to _do something_, and Richie springs up, grabbing his cell and dialing for help.

"Bev!"

"Richie?" she trills. "Oh, hey—"

"—_Bev, it's Eddie_!"

"What's wrong?" Beverly must sense the agitation in his voice. "Richie, what's happened?" she asks.

"He just passed out. I—I think he's sick." Richie keeps one hand on Eddie's sternum, making a distraught noise. "Like a fever."

A sympathetic tut. "Oh, honey, that's rough. I'm sorry. "

Richie frowns at his cell-phone, yelling, "What are you talking about—Eddie's not _dead_! He's _SICK_! What do I do!?"

"Well, you gotta bring down his fever."

"How do I do that?"

Beverly's voice dulls, "Google exists—"

"—_right, right_." Richie, still panicking, hangs up and opens up a new browser. He calls back after a minute. "Google's down."

She chuckles, disbelieving. "No it's not, that's—_ooh_," Beverly murmurs, and then says, "Sweetie! Ben, Google's down!"

"_BEVERLY_!" Richie yells louder, wide-eyed.

After some more frantic conversation, Beverly advises him to call an ambulance if it's serious and how to cool Eddie down. Richie thanks her, abandoning his cell, glancing upwards as the hotel-room's lights flicker on. Thank fuck.

He rings the front-desk for ice chips and hauls Eddie into his arms, cradling him to the bathroom. "C'mon, Eddie Spaghetti—wake up—" Richie murmurs, setting him upright to a wall, holding the side of Eddie's face. He strips him down, impatient for the lukewarm bathwater. Eddie goes into the tub, stirring, eyelids fluttering when Richie places a cool washcloth against his brow.

"_Wh'ss_…?"

"You're okay." Richie shushes him. "Gonna cool you down a little, Eds. Sit tight. Lemme get some water."

He purposely doesn't wanna tell Eddie he's got a fever. Might make him worse. Distressed. Richie heads to the mini-kitchen's faucet, pouring a cold glass of water and retrieving the ice-chips, forgetting he's still bare-ass naked from the waist down.

(The bell-boy returns to the elevators, reddening.)

Richie dumps a ton of ice into the glass of water, sloshing it.

He returns to Eddie, hurrying in and kneeling, bringing the cup's brim to his lips. "That's it," Richie says, forcing a cheery grin, listening to Eddie whimpering and swallowing. "You get the gold star tonight, Eds. Yeah. Twenty points to Hogglepuffwart, or whatever the fuck it is. I'm not a nerd—I don't know this shit."

"_Whh'sss it__… good_…?" Eddie breathes out, his mouth droopy-smiling.

He's confused until realizing Eddie means the sex. Oh _god_. Richie laughs, grinding his fingers to his hairline.

"Awesome. Was awesome. What would it be else, dumbass?" he replies, kissing Eddie's lips briefly and intertwining their fingers.

For better or worse.

*


End file.
